Rage of Swords
by Baka Neko
Summary: Alternate Universe: The Elric brothers revive their mother successfully. Unfortunately, the consequences are terrible. (Warning: Character Death)
1. Prologue

Rage of Swords: Prologue   


Author's Notes: AU spin off.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

General Grahn, the Iron Blood Alchemist, makes the introductions.

"Shou Tucker, Binding Life Alchemist, I would like you to meet someone."

"Ye--Yes sir?" Tucker peers nervously past the General, wondering if it's a new spy or some kind of hint that the General wants more breakthroughs.

A young boy, with a thick mop of blonde hair, bangs hiding his eyes, almost swallowed by the overly large military coat covering his shoulders. It's way past the child's bedtime, but there's something in the slump of shoulders that doesn't quite seem like weariness.

"I'd like you to meet Edward Elric, your new apprentice. He should be helpful in your research, Mr Tucker." General Gran's hand is huge on that slim shoulder, and there's something...possessive about the way he guides the child forward.

Tucker swallows nervously. A trick, a trap, some kind of joke?

"He's...General, he's a child."

The Iron Blood Alchemist smiles unpleasantly and gently nudges the boy forward again. The child takes one obedient step forward, and the coat slides open to reveal the dull gleam of metal. An auto- mail arm and leg, clearly visible through the black sleeveless turtleneck and shorts the boy wears. The familiar cross and twining snake is also emblazoned in silver against the black material, and jet eyes of the snake seem to pin Tucker unblinkingly.

"Young Elric here has successfully attempted a soul transmutation...and a human transmutation. You should find him invaluable."

The boy looks up suddenly, and Tucker's doubts all melt away. Those gold eyes burn with a feverish heat, but the look in those eyes are exactly the same one he sees in the mirror everyday, the one he hides behind his glasses, an inner transmutation stretched out slowly.

"Unfortunately, the townspeople destroyed his experiments before we could take them into custody; but I'm sure if you work together, you should be able to help Edward-kun here repeat his results." A heavy hand rests on the boy's head, but Elric continues to stare down at nothing at all.

"Soul transmutation...aren't those...how can you kill that?" Tucker asks. Yes, he has a glimmer of an idea how he might pass this year's State Assessment now...

"They took him apart." Edward says suddenly, his high-pitched voice a startling contrast to the General's gravelly tones. "They took him apart like...like a suit of armour. He was one anyway..." He starts to giggle, and the General withdraws his hand as if burnt.

"Then they melted him down in the auto-mail forge...I think Winry cried." He starts rocking slowly, cradling his own auto-mail arm. "Al...I didn't think armour could feel pain. But he didn't stop screaming until the last piece melted...Then they were going to take me apart too after they stoned mother, but the General stopped them." He smiles, bright and sudden. "The General stopped them all."

There is light reflecting off Shou Tucker's glasses, hiding his eyes as he reaches for Edward's real hand and takes it.

"Thank you General. I'm sure Edward-kun here will be invaluable."

"Good," says Iron Blood, as child and man disappear into the darkness, the door closing slowly behind them. "I expect good results from the both of you."

Light flickers off Shou Tucker's glasses as the man turns his head and nods, then the door shuts without a sound.


	2. Chapter One: Spark

Roy Mustang had pulled the trigger twice. Not once, not never-ever, but one-two, bang-bang and the blood had flowed. His hands had been shaking, but the shots were perfect. The center of the forehead—shoot to kill. Shoot straight, Mustang, his gunnery instructor had roared. Are you a soldier? Are you holding a weapon or a toy?

It was deliberate, he knows, that the Brigadier-General picked him, rather then one of his veterans, to pull the trigger that night.

_Soldiers are weapons, Mustang. Are you a weapon?_

"Brigadier-General Grahn," said Mustang neutrally. "You wanted to see me?"

"It came to my attention," replied the General in a low rumble, akin to the sound a large, heavy machinery makes when it warms up, "that you had requested the services of a National Alchemist for the matter in Liore."

Mustang smiled, a pleasant, empty smile. Minefields were easier to walk in than the Brigadier-General. Those exploded immediately. "The intelligence report mentioned the possibility of alchemy being used to produce the 'miracles'. I thought it best to send an alchemist to verify that before making any sudden moves."

"In any case, your request has been denied."

"Ah." He did not look down at the unmarked folder lying on the desk. The intelligence report had gone directly to the General of course, but Mustang knew the exact percentage Intelligence had assigned to the accuracy of that rumour. And Grahn himself was no slouch in the alchemy department—not when he also supervised the military branch of alchemical research.

"We simply cannot spare the manpower to verify stray rumours. However, I have an alternative."

He gestured, and the aide who had hitherto been a dark blue shadow against the wall moved forward to slide another unmarked file across the desk. At the General's nod, Mustang opened the file and raised an eyebrow at the photograph neatly clipped at the top of the page.

"Edward Elric, a prodigy in alchemy at age twelve. Currently, he is a ward of the Binding Life Alchemist, Shou Tucker. However...due to personal problems, Tucker is unable to both care for the boy and continue his research."

_So why is that a problem for you, General? We're soldiers after all, not nannies. _

Mustang held his tongue. Obviously, Grahn had other plans in mind for the boy, plans that did not include turning him over to the government adoption. _What the devil is he planning?_

"However, Elric has proven capable of carrying out his own research projects and I have proposed that he take the test to become a National Alchemist this year. The Fuhrer has granted permission, with the understanding that while Edward Elric may hold a National Alchemist license, he is still not considered a full adult and will remain under the supervision of a guardian." Grahn leaned back, eyes hooded.

_Are you a soldier, Mustang? Are you a weapon?_

"I'm not certain I understand your meaning, sir." Mustang replied woodenly.

Grahn did not mince words. "You. I put Edward Elric under your charge. Do you understand, Mustang?"

"I understand," said Mustang.

"Good," replied the General.

"I've sent a man to pick him up. He should arrive in two hours."

"Understood," said Mustang again and saluted.

Two hours was not a lot of time, but Mustang had handed the necessary arrangements to Hawkeye while he went through the file. There was... a lot of paperwork. Apparently, Grahn had meant it when he said the arrangements would be in his hands -- to the world, Edward Elric would be his ward, a promising young protege to be. The papers for guardianship, the application for the National Alchemist Test, the child allowance fund application papers that was legally due to all orphans...Roy's temples were starting to throb.

What there was not a lot of was information. Included was the basic biography, a clipping on how Elric's hometown had been one of the insurgent towns that rebelled and had been forcibly suppressed by the Iron Blood Alchemist himself, his mother and younger brother's death certificates...and nothing else. Nothing on the research that had brought him to the General's eye, much less the approval of the Fuhrer. No record whatsoever of the marvellous alchemical feats the boy was capable of-- whatever it was.

Roy slanted a thoughtful look at the telephone.

There was a knock, and the door swung open. Roy looked up and frowned. There was no one with the Lieutanant, and somehow he didn't think it was because the car hadn't arrived.

"Is something wrong?" he inquired.

"There's going to be a problem with living arrangements, Colonel." Hawkeye said with her customary directness. "He has a dog with him."

Roy stared. While he hadn't expected Hawkeye to say, shoot the dog and render that question moot, he quite frankly didn't expect that to prove an obstacle to the Lieutanant's formidable problem-solving powers. "Did you make any other arrangements?" he asked.

Lt. Hawkeye actually _looked_ uncomfortable, which was a first. "I suggested finding a family that would take the dog in, or at least put her in a boarding kennel -- you can book one for up to six weeks, but he was very insistent. The dog goes wherever he goes."

Roy _hmmed_ thoughtfully. Previous foster family had been the Tuckers for nearly two years...and then fostered out again to a completely unknown stranger. A child would cling, quite understandably, to something familiar and loving.

Then he looked down at the file again, at the boy in the photograph, chosen by the Iron Blood Alchemist himself, who had levelled Elric's hometown. Had the boy been still living there? Had he done something so impressive that Iron Blood himself had stayed his hand?

What kind of miracle did you have to create to impress Iron Blood?

_Are you a weapon, Mustang?_

"I'll go down with you," he said.

"Colonel," said Hawkeye again, as he passed her in the doorway. Any man watching might have been dazzled at the suddeness of her smile, the coy tilt of her head, which hid her eyes perfectly. Her hand brushed his. "Thank you."

"Lead the way, Lieutanant." Roy responded with his most charming smile, and discreetly palmed the folded square of paper into his pocket.

Animals were not allowed into the headquarters either, and thus Hawkeye led him through the mess hall and into the kitchens, where the boy was perched on a stool and munching on an apple, while the dog lay quietly at his feet.

At least it looked like it had been properly trained, thought Roy, then blanked his face as Hawkeye marched over.

"Edward Elric, this is Colonel Roy Mustang."

"Nina goes wherever I go." said Edward flatly, evidently picking up the argument from where it had been left lying. He bit, rather aggressively at his apple, and raised angry golden eyes to meet Roy's. He obviously understood that Hawkeye had brought out the big guns, and focused with singular intensity on Roy. Nina's head lifted in response to her name, but she made no sound otherwise, just a long, strangely intelligent look, her tongue lolling in breathy pants. Edward's fingers slipped down to tangle in her thick coat while he glared defiantly at the both of them.

"The dormitories do not permit pets," said Roy gently, watching the blazing gold eyes.

"Then I'm not staying there."

Roy nodded absently, his attention dropping down. Nina had curled even tighter around the legs of Edward' stool, her head ducked as if shy. She raised her head when Roy extended his hand, but did not sniff, only looking up into his eyes were her own young, trusting brown ones. Very young. Edward watched tensely, vibrating suddenly, and Hawkeye, still expressionless shifted warily in response.

Roy curled back his fingers, dropping it to his side.

"Her name is Nina?" Roy asked lightly, casually. Edward nodded cautiously, still wary.

"You must have named her after Shou Tucker's daughter. Were you fond of her?"

Edward's fingers tightened, and there was a wet crunch as the apple core crumpled in his grip. Roy watched it all, and thought about the slip of paper in his pocket.

"Like a sister," said Edward at last, thickly. His eyes dropped.

"You'll have to stay in my house then." Roy said. "I'll have the guest bedroom made up for you. Nina is your responsibility, however. Lieutanant Hawkeye, would you handle the rest of the arrangements?"

"Yes sir!"

Roy lingered, stealing an apple while Hawkeye efficiently bullied a hapless private to carry the bags, another to fetch Havok and a car, and then sweep Edward and Nina off to the garage. Once boy and dog had been dispatched, he turned and made his way up, pausing long enough to flick some ashes in the bin, swiftly indistinguishable from all the other food leavings.

He thought about the words on the paper, the dog that had not acted like any dog he had ever known, and that strange fear and angry that had radiated from those sun-gold eyes.

-------------------------

_You were right about Tucker. E almost killed him. G had to send him away_.

_H._

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The General had given him a weapon. And when Roy Mustang had raised the gun, he pulled the trigger twice. Not once, not never-ever, but one-two, bang-bang and the blood had flowed.

His hands are not shaking now.


	3. Chapter Two: Let me tell you a story

Let me tell you a story:

There was a rich nobleman, who married many times. His first wife died of sickness, he said, and the second fell down the stairs and broke her neck. How very unfortunate, his neighbours agreed. But because he was very rich, it was easy to find women willing to marry him.

He married again, and gave his new wife all the keys to every room in the house. But here is one room you must not open, he told her, though you may invite your friends and you family and let them visit every other room. And if you open that room, I will be very angry. So he kissed his wife and rode off on a journey

His new wife promptly invited all her friends and her beloved sister and together they went through the castle, amazed at the many rich and wondrous things the noblemen owned. For as he had promised, the keys he had given opened every door.

Every door, save the one he had told his wife never to open. And as they walked up and down and laughed and ate and sang, something grew in the heart of the wife and she wondered: What lies behind the door that he told me not to open?

And that thing in her heart grew and grew, until she felt her heart would burst; so she took up her keys, and went alone down the stairs, leaving her guests to make merry. And she put the key to the lock and turned it; she took hold of the door knob and turned it, and so she opened the door.

* * *

_Let me tell you a story._

This is my laboratory, Shou Tucker said. I'm currently doing research on chimeras. Be careful with how you handle them; quite a few have sharp teeth. This is the chemicals cupboard; I usually keep it locked, but I'll get a key made for you. This is the guestroom, here's the key- it's a little dusty but should serve you well. You can go into all the rooms of the house and use the library; but I would appreciate it if you didn't go into the laboratory unless I accompany you, Elric-kun.

_

* * *

_

"This is my daughter, Nina Tucker, and our dog, Alexander," said Shou Tucker. "Nina, this is Edward Elric. He'll be staying with us from today onwards. He just got his automail limbs, so he needs some time to recover."

He's still wearing the turtleneck and shorts from last night; he looks tired and pain-dazed.

"Can I call you niisan?" Nina pipes up. Her hair is in two pony tails today, tied with blue bows, and a small fat fist is crammed into the corner of her mouth, a sign of uncertainty, her other hand wrapped around Shou's fingers.

"No." says Edward Elric. "My brother is dead."

* * *

"I'll be going shopping for clothes," Shou says, pulling on his coat and hat. "Nina, can you stay with Elric-kun? His therapist will be paying a visit in the afternoon. I'd appreciate it if you looked after him until I come back."

Nina nods seriously. "I'll look after him with Alexander," she says, her fist buried in Alexander's thick coat. Then she hesitates. "Does Elric...Ed-niisan hate me?"

"No," says Shou reassuringly. "He just misses his brother and he's upset. And his automail limbs are still hurting him- that's why the therapist is coming. He'll be nicer to you when they don't hurt so much."

"Oh." Nina thinks about that, and Shou waits patiently. "Did his brother go far away like Mommy did?"

Shou is silent for a while. "Something like that."

* * *

Edward-niisan doesn't scream, but the hiss of air between his clenched teeth sounds strangely loud, while the therapist, cold-faced and professional, continues to flex his automail leg.

He slumps, wet and shaking into the recliner set up especially for this, and doesn't even lift his head when the door closes behind the therapist. For a moment all he can hear is the sound of his own panting, the crazy rhythm of his heartbeat and when he closes his eyes he sees only bloody starbursts.

"Edward-nii, do you want a glass of water?"

He doesn't want to lift his head and look into that soft round face, the innocent eyes; the same kind of eyes Alphonse had when he followed his brother blindly into the dark and tried to raise their mother. He's the worst of all brothers there could possibly be; even Abel was murdered once.

"...I told you not to call me that."

"...Daddy said you had a brother before he went away like Mommy did."

"I TOLD YOU TO GO AWAY!" he snarls. His real arm lashes out and knocks the glass from her hand, it hits the floor and shatters. Nina blinks at him, wide-eyed, the bangs of her hair clinging wetly to her forehead. If she cries, he may have to kill her. He can't stand that sound any longer. He watches her swallow, visibly biting back tears.

"..but you don't have a sister right? I thought, if I'm your sister, I could call you that."

"I..." Ed begins to say, and has to stop. The blood pulses in his temples, and for a moment a ghost boy whispers in his ears.

He shouldn't be here, shouldn't be hearing this. He has no brother, he has no mother, because he killed them both. Instead a ghost whispers all forlorn in his ear, and he wears a metal arm and leg.

_Niisan,_ says the ghost. _Niisan._

"You'll have to get changed," Ed says at last. "You're soaked. You'll catch a cold."

Nina looks uncertainly at him, swaying towards the door. She's only four years old and rather literal.

"I'll walk up to your room with you." he says.

He's rewarded with a sunburst smile, and Nina trots closer, carefullly avoiding the broken glass. She holds out her hand expectantly.

"Er, just...just turn around and look at the wall first, Nina. I need to get dressed." He's pink all the way down to his boxers, and Nina spins around with a giggle.

* * *

NIna is the sun and the stars, the earth beneath his feet and the heavens above his head. He braids her hair into pigtails because she is five now, and bakes her a cake and decorates it. He helps her hold the knife when she cuts the cake, and bends down and keeps her secret when she whispers in his ear what her wish is. He reads her stories from her books; he even sings a lullaby, just once, just for her. He made her a ducky to take into the bath, made her doll she could sleep with in bed. She wants to grow up to be an alchemist just like him and Daddy,she whispers when he tucks her into bed. And he promises he'll teach her. 

She is the best thing in his life, just as he thought it should have ended, ages ago, in the ashes of Lisenburgh.

"I've bought you a strawberry pie, Nina!" he calls, juggling the basket and the wet umbrella while trying to close the door against the wind. The huge gusts rattle the windows in their frames, splatter raindrops against the glass like bombs. There is no running little girl, no sloppy happy Alexander coming to greet him. Puzzled, he hangs up the umbrella and drops the basket onto the side table.

The damp smell in the house still tastes thick of cigars - Brigadier General Grahn must have come then, and Nina is most likely in her room, playing at being quiet with Alexander. He heads for the stairs, then pauses.

The door to the laboratory is open.

* * *

_Let me tell you a story: How the nobleman's wife opened the door and saw the bodies of his dead wives. Let me tell you how she screamed and dropped her key, then with trembling fingers snatched it up and shut and locked the door behind her. Let me tell you how she fled from it, up the stairs and into her room, and tried to scrub the blood off her hands and then that same key, but a speck of blood remained. She went to her sister then, begging her to call her brother to save her, and the sister went to the top of the tower to look for them._

_But the nobleman returned, and asked her to return the keys, and saw by her face and her trembling hands that she had not kept faith, and in fury swore he would kill her. And she, stammering with fear and weeping, begged for time, begged to make her peace with her maker and pray._

_Let me tell you this: This story ended well, and the brother came in time, and chopped off the nobleman's head instead and saved the wife._

_This is not their story._

_

* * *

_

"Tucker-san," said Ed, "it's time for dinner."

"Ah," said Tucker vaguely. In the dim light, his face looked hollow and shadowy. The chimera at his feet whimpered.

"I'll go up and call Nina."

"There's no need to, Elric-kun. Nina isn't here anymore."

A deep breath. "Why? Where did she go?"

"Oh...Nina...her mother came back and took her away with her."

"WHAT? And you let her?" Ed lunges forward, seizing him by the lapels. "You let her take Nina away? Why? Bring her back!" He's twelve, shorter even then Tucker, but the strength of his fury shakes Shou like a rag doll, rattles his teeth and knocks off his glasses.

He stops and stares into Tucker's eyes.

"Ed...war...nii..." the chimera croaks. "Ca...ca..me ba...ck."

The blood is beginning to pound in his head, and he turns to look at the chimera. It raises itself in slow, awkard movements, just like the way he moved when he'd just gotten his automail, when each step was like a thousand knives. The chimera's eyes are the eyes of a young girl.

"I'm going to kill you," says Edward dreamily, and for the first time in his life, transmutes his automail arm into a jagged blade.


	4. Chapter Three: This is how it ends, this...

Thanks to all the readers, in particular those who pointed my mistakes! (blush) The repeated chapter 2 has been removed, and the rating changed accordingly. Since this account was originally just a way to archive fic, I didn't include any contact info. This has changed; so if you have a question, you can email me directly.

Onto the fic.

* * *

The surveillance team will have to be retrained. They heard the screaming, chalked it up to one of Tucker's experiments, given that the National Alchemist review was coming up. This had happened before. Screaming is-_was_, not unusual. 

But it was only when the bangs and crashes were going on for too long to be a simple accident then they raised the alert. Too slow, too late.

_An utter waste._

If they'd raised the alarm earlier, he might have been able to salvage something. Instead, he stands in the ruins of Tucker's basement laboratory and surveys utter destruction.

The cages all bent and twisted; the chimeras once held in them are all bloody lumps in the corner. Tucker's research notes have been set on fire, burning in the wreckage of delicate laboratory equipment. _Expensive_ wrecked laboratory equipment.

The man still breathes, but it will take several months and serious medical attention before he can even start work again.

This will set back the research for months, if not years. And Elric is not being cooperative.

Elric is downright defiant, rebellious, and ready to tear apart anything vaguely related to Shou Tucker that he hasn't already torn apart.

All save for the dog, which that fool boy apparently developed an attachment for. At least he didn't kill it.

Brigadier-General Grahn scowls and marches back up the stairs. He'll have to destroy everything now.

They've put the boy in one of the side rooms, a pair of soldiers guarding the door with blank faces, while the salvage teams sort through everything in the mansion, looking for anything not meant for other eyes. You could almost imagine nothing had happened; the rooms are still neat and untouched above. Whatever insane fit that took over Elric confined itself in the laboratory; upstairs is still shabby and genteel as ever.

Grahn goes in.

Edward is cradling a huge white sheep dog, his back to the door, its head lying in his lap, fast asleep. The platter next to him is covered by a thin skim of creamy liquid.

"What is that?" Grahn's voice rumbles, like low rolling thunder.

"Milk. With poppy extract in it. I had to put the dog to sleep. It was getting agitated by the smell of blood."

"Why did you destroy the laboratory?"

Edward doesn't stop stroking the furry head, even though the dog can't possibly feel it.

"I felt like it," he returns tonelessly. "I don't like chimeras."

Grahn bites back a snarl.

"You didn't have a problem a year ago."

"I've never seen chimeras until a year ago," Ed replies snidely. There's a challenging tilt to his head, and if Elric was not already so high-strung, Grahn would be tempted to beat some sense into that blonde head, bowed over the dog. He suppresses a flash of irritation; Elric was ordered to cut his hair a long time ago. Another defiance.

Grahn changes tack. "Where's Tucker's daughter? There doesn't seem to be anyone in the house except you and the damned dog."

For a moment, Grahn tenses while Ed's shoulders practically vibrate with fury. If it wasn't for the sleeping dog weighing the boy down, he doesn't have the slightest doubt that Elric would leap up and try to kill him. The boy glares at him, hands clenching convulsively, then forcing them to relax and release the bunched fur.

"He transmuted her." Ed's voice is low and venomous. It's a good thing the medics have left the house with Tucker on a stretcher. He doesn't know why Elric stopped short of killing Tucker, but he doesn't doubt that the next time, Elric will rip his throat out.

"Transmuted her?"

"He was going to make a chimera that could understand human speech. He used her as one of the materials."

Grahn makes a mental note to pick a family with no children next time. Elric is already unstable; now he gets attached to little girls.

"Where's the experiment now?"

The look Elric turns on him is deadly, but Grahn is quite unimpressed. The boy is twelve years old and he owes his life to Grahn. And Elric will be spending the rest of that life repaying him.

"...Destroyed with the rest of them. You could always try sorting out the body parts before they cook." The burning gold eyes drop to the dog again.

Grahn stifles a snarl of fury. An utter _waste_. Tucker will have to start from scratch, as if the man doesn't already owe him. Tucker had damn well produce results, good ones, when he recovers.

"Anderson!" He barks. The aide, lurking behind the door, comes scurrying in.

"I'm putting you in charge of Elric. Get him out of here before the clean-up crew arrives. You'll look after him until I decide what to do with him."

"Yes sir!" The aide creeps nervously towards Elric, obviously unwilling to get to close to the boy. As if insanity was contagious.

"The dog comes." announces Elric abruptly, glowering as Anderson leaps back with a startled squeak.

"B-but..."

Grahn has left the room, uninterested in the proceedings. He's going to have to figure a way to keep Elric far, far away from Shou Tucker, and his new and sudden dislike of chimeras is definitely going to be a problem. Still, the boy is young and has potential- he merely needs to be refocused on a new project. And someone of course, will have to look after him.

It's not going to be one of his aides, that's for certain. Elric needs a leash, possibly a straitjacket, and preferably someone who can't be cowed and has no connections to any of Grahn's projects, someone whose connections can't be used to find Tucker. Someone that Elric won't be tempted to kill because he took offense with milk being served with breakfast. Someone hard to kill. And someone who will make Elric toe the line while obeying Grahn's orders at the same time.

"Bring me Elric's file," he barks, and behind him, another military shadow scurries for the telephone.

Before Lisenburgh burned, Edward Elric wrote a letter to the military, one that his spies intercepted. One that brought him to General Grahn's attention, at a most fortuitous time.

His lips stretch in a grim smile. Elric may be glad that Lisenburgh burned, but he never forgets his brother died in flame, hates it and fears it in the same breath. Elric will behave himself, as a ward of the Flame Alchemist, Roy Mustang.

* * *

The motel room is clean, quiet, in soothing cream and dark green colours. Anderson finally found a place willing to take pets, though there was some small argument about the dog sleeping in the room. Edward merely looked homicidal, and Anderson hastily went to bribe the night porter to sneak the dog in. 

The drugs should be wearing off soon; he'll need Anderson to get him some animal painkillers tomorrow morning. Organic transmutation on a live subject is invariably painful; he's observed enough of the chimera experiments to know that. And even the Binding Life Alchemist rarely performed more than one transmutation on a subject in the same day- constantly exceeding the pain threshold tended to kill the experiments.

Necessity is the mother of invention. It's a good thing Grahn didn't check the dog too closely; it would have been difficult to explain why Alexander was now a she, and Ed's nerves are too strained to invent more elaborate lies.

He fingers the jaw, the muscle hot and swollen from changing shape; a mute dog he could explain, but not a talking one, nor one with an almost human face. He buries his face now in the warm, breathing coat, the soft rise and fall, the familiar heartbeat below, his own eyes burning with fatigue.

There was a story he read once in the library, of how a girl was raped by her brother-in-law and had her tongue cut out to silence her. She would not be silenced; instead, she wove a tapestry out of the unspeakable crime done to her, and her sister read it with her own eyes, and took vengeance on the husband.

Nina doesn't have hands to weave, thanks to her father, but it's thanks to him she can't speak. She'll live the rest of her life like this, raped of a future by her father, silenced by her niisan.

"I'll make it better," he promises. "I swear I will. You'll be a real girl again. No matter what."

The notes in that laboratory have been burnt, but Ed doesn't care. He won't touch that research again. He knows what he's looking for already.

_The Philosopher's Stone._

He'll make Nina a real girl again, no matter how many bodies he'll have to step over. He promised.

_Niisan_, the ghost whispers in his ear, and he no longer knows if it's Al's voice or Nina's.

* * *

Owari 


	5. Omake: Three Days

OMAKE!

Author's Notes:A happy breakto depressing fic. For naanima.

------------------------------------------------

The first day Ed goes to live with Roy Mustang, there is an argument about, of all things, dog kibble.

If Ed had his way, his allowance (and all of Roy's salary) would be spent entirely on the most expensive brand of dog food to have ever existed. Apparently, in Central City, you can get a least twenty-seven different brands, each of which has at least ten flavours, and Ed is worriedly debating whether Nina would prefer the salmon flavour or the roast beef one. That he seriously considers Roy's snarky aside about taste-testing is enough to give Roy the chills.

To his further horror, Ed wants to buy clothes for the dog. Roy forced him to get a collar and a leash by reason that the dog catchers would think Nina was a stray; Ed now vacillates between a pink one with gold bells and a blue one with silver bells, muttering distractedly about Nina's favourite colour.

"Dogs see entirely in black and white," Roy points out.

Ed looks at him as if he were the madman. "It's Nina. She'll know. It'll hurt her feelings if I don't get her a nice one. The salesgirl said that pink is the new black, whatever that is. What do you think?"

"Black?" suggested Roy. Ed glowers and goes off to consult the fashionistas of petwear.

At least Roy has three new phone numbers and a date for next week.

It's when Ed is picking out more (pink) cushions, (three) hairbrushes and (apple scented) doggy shampoos that disaster strikes.

Lady Murgatroyd does not so much as walk in as she...blobs in. Like a fast moving...blob. Her beautifully black velveted curves are like small rolling hills, if small rolling hills threatened to erupt from the seams at any moment. She's swathed in enough fur to make every animal in the petshop wonder if their ancestors unto the fourth generation gave their lives for it, and in her arms she cradles a small, bald Pekingnese that looks smug. Probably because his ancestors hasn't been sacrificed.

And then she spots Roy Mustang, Lady Killer and promising young officer.

"Roy DAAAARLING!" she shrills ectastically, and heads for him like an oncoming avalanche.

He destroyed a whole city with a snap of his fingers. He can face the oncoming Mount of Doom like a real man. (Okay, so he doesn't feel like a real man right now.) Roy notes that small animals cower in their cages as she passes by.

"I'm so glad to see you," she breathes, seizing his hand and dragging it up towards her bosom, and Roy watches with sickly horror as it sinks into the furs like it's been swallowed by something furry and rabid. If he ever gets his hand back, he's going home the first thing and sterilizing it.

"...Nice to meet you too..."

"What a delightful surprise! Are you getting yourself some..._companionship_?" Lady Murgatroyd coos.

Forget that, he's going to cut it off. And burn it. He can still produce a spark with only one hand anyway.

"Companionship?" he parrots weakly.

"Like my little darling here," she coos again, hefting the small bald dog. The Peke gives him the evil eye, and Roy will swear before a military tribunal that the damned thing smirked at him. "They're such faithful little darlings, and sometimes when you feel a little lonely, they're there to cheer you right up."

"I already have a dog?" offers Roy. Next time she's in Central, Roy will beg to be posted to East City. Or possibly over the border.

"Hey, Colonel, can you help me hold all of this?" Ed demands, reappearing with an armful of unidentifiable pink things.

"Certainly," Roy says, ripping his hand free. "Is that all you're getting?"

"Yeah...I guess. They said there'll be new stock coming in next week." Ed's eyes glow with unfulfilled shopping urges.

Lady Murgatroyd, disconcerted by the sudden interruption, slowly re-orientates on Edward. Who, if you didn't know any better, looked the perfect picture of a gold-braided, apple-cheeked cherub of innocence.

"OOOH, YOU'RE SUCH A LITTLE DARLING!" Lady Murgatroyd squealed.

Ed twitches. Small caged animals cower back even more.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO LITTLE YOU COULD WALK RIGHT OVER ME?" Edward Elric roars.

**BOOM  
**  
"Saved," murmured Roy, before slapping down a handful of bills on the counter and fleeing like a coward.

On the second day (or rather, two o'clock in the morning), there was coffee.

"Coffee."

"Thank you," replied Roy absently and brought the cup to his lips. The liquid hit his tongue exactly the same moment the aroma did.

Roy dropped the report, stared at his ward and said, "Coffee?"

"I don't think I poisoned this batch," said Edward after awhile. "Why? Does it taste of mercury or sulphur?"

"Coffee," repeated Roy. The knuckles of his hand were practically white, and it would probably take a chainsaw to remove the cup from his hand. He rose, and Ed took an apprehensive step back. Sure, he was the one who was mildly insane, but even a sane man could snap. Presumably all Roy would do was attack him with a cup of poisoned coffee, since his gloves were in another room, but one never knew.

"This." The cup was shoved practically at Ed's chest level only to be withdrawn when Ed instinctively made to take it. "This is GOOD Coffee, Edward-kun."

"Fine, I'll pour out this batc-- wait, are you serious?"

"This," repeated Roy, in all seriousness, the liquid level in the cup trembling, "Is Magnificent Coffee."

Ed, still disbelieving, tried to take the cup away. Roy backed up, free hand curving protectively over his cup. "This is WONDERFUL COFFEE, and it is all MINE."

"You're out of your mind," said Ed.

Roy, apparently operating on the principle that Ed was now hell-bent on taking away his mug of wonderful coffee, tipped his head back and swallowed the contents in well, three huge, audible, _glug-glug-glugs_.

Ed stared.

"This coffee, do you have the recipe for it?"

"...Yes? Coffee powder, hot water, milk and sugar?" hazarded Ed.

Roy loomed, shaking the empty cup at him. "This was Good Coffee, Edward-kun."

"Fine," said Ed. "It's this incredible alchemical secret recipe, which I recorded in code as What I Did During My Holiday in Aquaroya and I invented it when I was eight years old."

Roy beamed at him. "Will you please make more?"

"Right," said Ed, taking the empty cup gingerly, then fled for the kitchen.

Roy Mustang was INSANE.

On the third day, Roy went to work with Ed tagging along; there were some books Ed wanted from the military library.

"Here's the report, Colonel. So, how's living with Edward-kun?" said Havoc.

"I worry about that boy," said Roy, not looking up.

"Ah?" said Havoc, eyebrows rising.

"...But he makes good coffee."

"Ah," said Havoc, and smiled around his cigarette.

"You can read at the desk here until lunchtime," Hawkeye told him. "You won't be able to access the First Central Library until you get your alchemist watch, but these should be sufficient as study materials."

"Thanks," said Ed, settling down in his seat. Nina was being dogsat by a nice neighbour with all her new toys-- there shouldn't be any problems. He hoped. He'll check during lunch.

"...So, how is living with Colonel Mustang?" Hawkeye asked.

"He's out of his mind," said Edward with conviction. Then he looked up at Hawkeye. "But he's nice to Nina."

"That's good to hear, Edward-kun," said Hawkeye. "I'm glad you're getting along."


	6. Omake: Rules for House 12B

Title: Rules for House 12B 

------------

MEMO TO ALL EMPLOYEES: RULES FOR HOUSE 12B

Dear all,

Kindly take note the following rules. Moo Moo Corporation always strives to ensure employee happiness and safety; the following rules are therefore for your benefit.

- Manager

RULES FOR HOUSE 12B

1. DO NOT OFFER MILK IF IT IS THE CRAZY KID THAT ANSWERS THE DOOR.

The kid most emphatically does not like milk. He really, really does not like milk, and while it is sad that he doesn't like milk and will undoubtedly miss out on all the nutritional benefits our milk offers, we do not want to press the issue. He will demonstrate that he does not like milk on your person, and it is most advisable not to mention whom you are employed by if you should be so careless as to utter the word. If he answers the door, simply deduct milk from the standing order, give him butter and cheese, and flee for your life.

The kid is easily recognizable by his golden hair and eyes, his automail arm and leg, and the obvious chip on the shoulder. Refrain from conversation, observe the usual etiquette, and you should be able to leave unharmed.

2. YOU MAY OFFER MILK IF: THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE ANSWERS THE DOOR

If the master of the house answers the door, it is safe to give him his full order and his milk.

HOWEVER. Regardless of whether he has stolen your latest girlfriend, courted and dumped your sister, kissed the one burning passion of your life, you are strongly discouraged from attacking him on his own doorstep. For one, you are there in the person of the Company's Employee, therefore you should not be attacking our customers. And number two, he is the Flame Alchemist. Damaged uniforms will be deducted from your pay.

2a. YOU MAY OFFER MILK IF: A YOUNG LADY ANSWERS THE DOOR.

It is also safe to give her milk, even if she is not the same young lady you saw yesterday. Pay no attention to small details like that.

However, it would be greatly advisable not to comment on her state of undress, even if she is likely to catch a cold. Merely bid her a good morning and stop staring. She is obviously not available, and you have a milk run to attend to.

3. LEAVE THE ORDER AT THE DOORSTEP IF THE FAMILY DOG ANSWERS THE DOOR.

If the family dog answers the door, you may rest assured the transaction will be the most painless of all. Simply retrieve the envelope containing the payment, leave the order on the doorstep and bid the dog good morning. Not only is it polite, it makes the dog happy, and the crazy kid likes it when the dog is happy.

If you follow the above rules, you should have a safe and happy milk run.

- Moo Moo Corporation

_Mooving Milk to Your Doorstep_


	7. Side Story: Girl in the Garden

Side-Story: Girl in the Garden

Notes: Ed was not the only one who lost something.

* * *

The new house is a small, tasteful, red-brick and cream affair, and it looks nothing like their old house. It'll be a while before she can build up a regular customer base again, but for now, she treasures the free time. She sucks on the pipe, then puffs a neat grey ring out, and checks the window. 

Winry wears a straw hat and a sundress, her arm raised to throw a ball for Den.

Winry spends a lot of time in the garden now.

When they first took off the bandages, Pinako had to hold her breath; Winry's hands were pink and puffy, more like raw meat than the slender artisan hands Winry was growing into. Winry stared at them like she'd never seen them before, like they weren't the hands she'd grown up with. The doctor told her she was lucky; trying to force open a hot automail forge with her bare hands like that; she might well end up needing automail hands herself. With therapy and time though, she'll be able to use her real ones again.

"I would have burnt them right off it it would have saved Al," Winry says after the doctor is gone. Pinako can only close her eyes and try very hard not to weep. She loved Al too, like he was one of her grandchildren, but Winry is all she has, and she cannot bear the thought of her Winry being so broken.

Winry wears gloves all the time now; more to hide the scars than to protect her healing hands. She never looks at her own hands if she can help it, she never touches a spanner or a bolt, save to carry the heavy things Pinako needs. Pinako deliberately does not wonder if she'll be able to do the kind of delicate work automail wiring requires ever again.

Winry's sunny nature surfaces as she spends more time in the garden, throwing balls and sticks for Den to fetch. She can name all the flowers, even their strange Latin names, can tell when they seed and when they flower, keeps her own notebooks on them.

When she asks if she can start a tomato garden, Pinako says yes.

Den's tune-ups are now done by Pinako.

Winry comes in one day nearly in tears. Her tomato plants have died.

Pinako wants to tell her, "Look, I'm thinking of building an automail arm and leg for the chibi. Would you like to help?"

Instead, she tells Winry that the next time they go to market, they'll buy her more tomato seeds.

Pinako keeps the door to the automail workshop closed, because Winry's face is always haunted every time she sees the automail forge. She tries to do her work only when Winry's in the garden, or when she's out in school, because it hurts her to see Winry's face.

So when Winry comes in, in a pair of worn overalls, her hair tied back, Pinako can't help the way her old heart leaps, the sudden pricking in her eyes.

"I thought," Winry says shyly, "since I keep killing tomatoes, I better work on something a lot more hardy."

"Of course you may," Pinako says gruffly. "Den needs to get his leg tuned up again. You can start on him."

Afterwards, she tries not to cry when Winry washes her hands and leaves the gloves off.


End file.
